“Then why do you both look so worried?” Georgina asked. She gave Annabelle a pleading look. “Please, tell me.”
“A seduction that you are describing could go very wrong,” Annabelle said. “And I don’t know that Paul would go along with it. He is so very honorable. A wonderful quality, of course, but I don’t see him forcing something like this even for the best cause.”
Georgina folded her arms. “I realize that. Which is why he wouldn’t know what I was doing. Then he will be blameless.”
“And likely furious,” Marcus said, shaking his head.
“I would rather have him furious and mine than have to marry some stuffy marquis while I pine for him forever,” Georgina snapped as she jumped up. “I have been doing what everyone else wants, what everyone else requires for years. I don’t want to live the rest of my life regretting it. I will make it up to him afterward, but please, please won’t you help me?”
Marcus looked past her, his eyes locking with Annabelle’s. Unspoken communication flowed between them as Georgina held her breath and hoped they would come out on her side after all.
Finally, Marcus sighed. “I do owe him. After all, he helped orchestrate something quite similar for Annabelle.”
Georgina’s eyes went wide and she jerked her gaze to her friend, who was merely smiling. “Indeed, he did.”
“Very well, Georgina,” Marcus said. “We will help you. And I know exactly the best place to shock your father into action.”
Chapter Six
Paul couldn’t keep the scowl from his face as he strode through the empty main hall of the Donville Masquerade. In a few hours, the place would be buzzing with patrons gambling and also relieving their sexual tensions right in the open for everyone to see.
Normally Paul barely even noticed such things. They had become commonplace in his world and he kept his own desires far separate from the ones expressed here. But since his powerful encounter with Georgina a few days earlier, he had become more and more irritated by the passions exhibited in this hall.
Why should all these people get what they wanted while his desires remained forever out of reach?
“Mr. Abbot,” said Cord, the butler for the hell, as he puffed and struggled to keep up with Paul’s long stride.
He came to a sudden stop and Cord nearly toppled over with the unexpected ceasing of motion.
“What is it?” Paul asked, hating how sharp his tone was. Marcus was the roaring bear here, Paul had always been the one to maintain calm.
Now fulfilling that role felt almost impossible.
“Sir, we have been waiting for your arrival. Mr. Rivers has requested some changes in the purple salon and they require your attention.”
Paul pursed his lips as he withdrew the small notebook he always carried from his breast pocket. “Cord, today I must do the following list of things.”
He turned the paper so the butler could see the three pages of notes he had taken the night before. He’d been hoping work would help him forget Georgina. It hadn’t thus far, but he had little other recourse.
“It is a long list, I see,” Cord said.
“Is it possible someone else could see to Marcus’s whims just this once?” he asked, grinding his teeth.
Cord’s eyes went wide at the uncharacteristic temper Paul was displaying. But then he shook his head, singular in his direction. “I’m afraid not, sir. Mr. Rivers told me you would need to see to it yourself. I am just the messenger, Mr. Abbot.”
Paul froze at that last admonishment, spoken softly by the ever-loyal servant. He took a long breath and exhaled before he spoke again.
“You are correct, Cord. I’m sorry for my bad humor. I have a great deal on my mind, most of it having nothing to do with the Masquerade. I shouldn’t take it out on you regardless of the source of my discontent. I’ll see to Rivers’ changes and, in the meantime, will you be certain the deliveries were made this morning? We’ve been having trouble getting the spirits stocked before we open and it vexes me.”
Cord let out a brisk nod. “Certainly, sir. I’ll see to it right away.”
The butler scuttled off to do as asked, and Paul sighed. He had never felt such frustration in his life. Swiftly he turned down a long hallway that led to the hell’s private rooms. Once the club was open, these were rooms where ladies and gentleman of all rank and richness could act out their deepest fantasies.
He was not surprised to find the door to the purple salon open and waiting for him. He entered and looked toward the table beside the bed for a list of changes to be made, but the sound of the door closing behind him made him turn.
Leaning against the door was Georgina.
He blinked a few times, hoping to clear this addlepated dream from his line of vision. He wanted her so much he had conjured a hallucination of her here—that was the only explanation. God, how he hoped it was.
Except that she didn’t disappear as he had anticipated would happen. She just stood there, watching him, her hands shaking at her sides.
“Damn Marcus,” he muttered. “I should have known he would repay me for Annabelle at some point.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you referring to their courtship here?”
He frowned. “Told you about it, did they? Well, I’d hardly call it a courtship, though it did lead them to be wed.” He blinked, and still she remained. “What are you doing here, Georgina—Miss Hickson?”
She flinched at his correction to the formality between them. Formality he never should have allowed to fall since he obviously had no control over himself when it came to this woman. Even now, looking at her from across a room, all he could see was how beautiful she was in a dark blue gown that matched her eyes.
God how he wanted to kiss her again. To touch her again. To claim her this time as he hadn’t at the wax exhibit. He shook his head.
“I came here because I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice shaking but without hesitation. “Paul, all I have thought about since that night at Madame Tussaud’s is you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut at her confession. How tempting she was, without even trying to be. But he had to resist for both their sakes. “This is not a proper place for you.”
“If you are here, it is the most proper place for me,” she insisted. “Look at me, Paul.”
He slowly opened his eyes and did as she asked. It was a torture.
“Paul, I am in love with you,” she whispered. “I have been forever. I cannot pretend it away anymore.”
Her words crashed into him like a wave on a rocky shore and he nearly toppled over in shock and joy that she had said them. Georgina loved him, just as he loved her. But reality followed on the heels of fantasy and everything that would keep them apart ripped his happiness to pieces.
“You must pretend,” he insisted as he moved on her. “For we cannot be together, and you know why. Now let me take you out of here before you—”
He cut himself off as his hand closed around her upper arm. She gazed up at him, blue eyes hazy with desire and love. Touching her had been a wicked mistake and now he was snared by her siren’s call.
“Georgina,” he whispered, both a plea and a warning. Why wouldn’t she step away when he couldn’t?
“Paul,” she whispered in return, and reached up to stroke the back of her bare hand across his cheek.
He couldn’t maintain a handle on control any longer. He dipped his head and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her to him, molding her against him as tightly as he could without stripping her bare and joining their bodies. It wasn’t enough. And it was too much.
She lifted into his kiss and returned it with fervor and fever. Her heated tongue lapping at his closed lips stripped away the last vestiges of gentlemanly behavior and he made a strangled curse as he backed her toward the bed in the middle of the room. They fell across it and he cupped her breast as she arched beneath him, their mouths still desperately mating.
“Georgina,” he managed to rasp as he broke the kiss. “Please. I can’t stop this, so you must. For your own good.”
She stared up at him, and he held his breath as he waited for her to ask him to get off her. She had to come to her senses, after all. It was their only hope.
But instead, without breaking her gaze, she reached up and unfastened the buttons along the front of her gown. She parted the fabric and revealed a very pretty but rather sheer chemise beneath.
“No,” he whispered, but could not make himself move. She reached out and took his hand, and guided it to her nearly naked flesh.
“Yes,” she insisted. “Please. Now.”
He growled out desire so powerful that he could have torn her apart with it and ground his mouth back to hers as he squeezed the breast offered to him like a feast to a starving man.
She gasped into his mouth and arched into him as he began to pluck one hard nipple with his thumb, over and over, in a rhythm that he had designed to drive her wild. Her hips began to rise and fall in time to his touch, her breath short and hot against his lips.
He wanted to lick her, he wanted to stroke her, he wanted to press himself inside of her and make her moan his name. There had never been another woman to make him feel so animal in his desire. And there had never been another woman to make him feel so tender in his love for her.
He knew it wasn’t possible, but his heart and his body led him in a different direction from his screaming mind. And they were far more powerful in this moment.
He dragged his mouth away from hers, down her throat, down across her collarbone, until he latched on to the same nipple he had been teasing with his thumb.
“Oh my God,” she grunted as he sucked her hard through the sheer fabric, swirled his tongue around her, gave her exactly what he knew she needed without even asking. Because he knew her and he loved her and there was a bond between them that gave him answers without having to ask questions.
“Paul,” she groaned, her hands threading through his hair, holding him against her as she shivered with building pleasure.
He began to ratchet her skirts up, his hand trembling as he did it. He’d been dreaming of her slick, tight heat since the last time he touched her intimately, and now he couldn’t resist it.
“Let me touch you,” she breathed, her fingers trailing down to drag alone the front of his trouser flap.
The feel of her hands, even through the heavy fabric, was almost too much to take. He thrust his hips toward her with a low moan and she smiled up at him in a combination of understanding and triumph.
God, how he loved her.
He shoved that thought aside along with the thoughts that followed about how desperate that feeling was and instead delved into kissing her as his fingers finally found the slick entrance of her sex.
“God,” he murmured against her mouth. “You are a revelation.”
“Please, won’t you take me?” she asked, gasping as he stroked over her the same way he had in the wax museum. “Make me yours in a way no one can take away, no one can change.”
He pulled back and stared down at her. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears and want, her breath short from desire. She was a wicked, heartbreaking temptation.
“Georgina,” he whispered, trying to get up the ability to pull away as he knew he should.
But before he could do that, the door behind them flew open. Paul pivoted, rolling to block the intruder’s view of Georgina’s half-naked body in the bed.
His jaw dropped open, his eyes widened, for there in the entryway, his face turning purple, was Georgina’s father, flanked on one side by Marcus.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hickson roared.
Chapter Seven
Georgina had been perfectly aware that being caught in this position by her father would be embarrassing. But as she tugged her bodice up and smoothed her skirts down to cover herself, she was almost swept away by the humiliation. Her father just stood there, angry, puffing like a bull and staring at her as if she had stolen something.
“What the hell are you thinking, Georgina? Coming to this…this disgusting place without a maid and letting this fortune hunter trick you into a bed?” he barked as he strode fully into the room.
Marcus quietly followed and shut the door behind them. He silently leaned back against the barrier, unspeaking but in a stance of wary readiness. Georgina flashed him a quick, grateful look before she drew a breath and answered her father.
“Father—”
But he clearly didn’t give a damn about her answer, for he continued to rail. “Your mother and I have done everything to protect you during your Seasons. We’ve done everything to shield you from those who would take advantage. And this is the thanks we get? You ungrateful child!”
Now that she was covered, Paul got to his feet and held up a hand. “Mr. Hickson, you mustn’t blame your daughter,” he began.
Georgina jumped up. “You must very much blame your daughter,” she corrected. “I am not a child who didn’t understand what I was doing, Paul. Don’t disregard this as a foolish, youthful mistake. I know my mind and I know my heart.”
Paul sent her a quick look. “Georgina, please. Don’t make this worse than it is.”
Her father moved on him. “You shut your mouth. I don’t blame my daughter, sir, I blame you. For two years I have watched you with her. I have seen your sideways glances and the longing in your stare. And I knew it wasn’t her charms or her beauty which tempted you. Admit it, you have always been drawn in by her money and her ties to a family of such importance.”
Paul’s face twisted in horror at the accusation and Georgina flew between the men, offering herself as a shield between her father’s ugly words and Paul’s very decent true self.
“Stop, Father!” she burst out. “Stop this at once. You don’t understand. I am in love with this man. I am in love with Paul Abbot.”
She had somehow hoped that this declaration would shock her father into seeing the truth. But instead of softening, he shook his head.
“Of course he would make you believe that—he would play on your weak, romantic heart.” There was no malice to his tone, despite his harsh words. There was only sadness. “He is using you, daughter, and the fact that I have caught you here only proves it. He is trying to force you into a union that will benefit only himself.”
Marcus finally cleared his throat, and all heads in the room swiveled to him. He kept his gaze firmly on Georgina as he said, “Actually, Mr. Hickson, you are correct. This entire exchange was orchestrated. You were meant to find Georgina here with my manager. But Abbot had nothing to do with it. Georgina was the master of this plot.”
Georgina caught her breath. She hadn’t expected Marcus to reveal her machinations like that, but as she met his gaze she saw why. She had to admit what she had done both to clear Paul’s name and to let both her father and her lover know how deeply serious she was about forging a future that followed her heart, rather than the rules her parents had endlessly forced upon her.
Her father and Paul both turned back to her, and she almost laughed. Their expressions were twin images of horror and betrayal. As if this experience and their shock and eventual anger with her would bond them.
Paul was the first one to find his voice, it seemed. “Why would you do something so drastic and foolish, Georgina?”
She shook her head. “You know why, Paul. I am in love with you. Deeply and truly in love with you.” His hard expression softened a fraction, but it seemed to be against his will. She turned away from it and toward her father. “I have lived under your rules for years, Father. I knew you would never let me have this man without drastic intervention. And this was the best plan I could concoct on short notice and under duress.”
Her father’s eyes were wide and his hands shook. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained. “You would go so far to escape my protection?”
She swallowed,
captivated by the true pain on his face. He had spent so much time in the past few years growing increasingly frustrated and disappointed in her and her failure to do as he expected. But this look on his face, this was something different. There was…there was love there. And she didn’t think she’d seen that for a very long time.
She nodded as she fought to find her voice again. “I am so sorry to cause you pain or humiliation, Father…Papa. But you…you do not listen to me when I speak to you about what I want. You don’t hear me. So I knew I couldn’t just tell you the truth, I had to shock you with it.”
Her father turned his face, his cheeks pale and his gaze filled with chagrin. “I-I only want what is best for you, Georgina.”
“But you cannot think that I could decide what is best for myself,” she whispered.
He walked a few steps away. When he turned back, his mouth was pinched in a thin line. “You don’t understand. When you first came out, do you know how many offers I had for you?”
She blinked. “I have never had an offer, Father. We both know that. It is why you have come to despise me so deeply.”
He shook his head. “No, no, not at all. I should have told you the truth. Let me try now.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You have a large dowry, as you know.” He shot Paul a glare. “As everyone knows. And while it was put in place to help you, your mother and I quickly came to realize it also put you in danger. Within a few weeks of your first debut, we had offers from several men, and we were pleased. But upon deeper inspection, we came to realize that they were all after your money. They didn’t give a damn about you. There were titled scoundrels who had lost it all, social climbers who pretended to be something they weren’t. It was a rogues gallery, and we were disgusted at the idea of turning our dearest daughter over to a man like that.”
No Gentleman for Georgina Page 5